Tales from Damascus
by YaroahRhodun
Summary: A collection of short stories concerning the fanmade Damascus Chapter of the Assassin Order. For those who don't know, Damascus is a city in the Middle East. During this time period (Early to mid-1500s) it was consumed in a war between the Mamluks and Ottomans. **NOTICE** I am an amateur writer, please leave reviews so I can improve my work!
1. 1513: The Re-Establishment

Damascus, 1513.

A cloaked man stood in the alleyway. What he was waiting for was, as of yet, unapparent. After 20 minutes of sitting there, without making the slightest attempt at any action, he was greeted by a man in bronze armor. This man handed him a package. The cloaked man spoke briefly with the armored man, before both nodded and departed.

The cloaked man walked into a large square, where he was met by another man, this time in a fine blue silk robe. The package was handed off again.

The robed man walked for a distance, through the winding roads of the city. At last, he paused by a door, looked around, and ventured deeper into what seemed to be an unassuming tavern.

Behind him, the door made a whooshing sound whilst it closed. This sound stopped for just a fraction of the second. Then it continued as before.

The man was hailed by the innkeeper, who took a heavy bronze key from his pocket and opened a door to the basement. They both went down into the basement, where the innkeeper opened yet another door, which led into a rough-hewn stone passage, lit by an occasional torch. The robed man continued his journey. The innkeeper went back upstairs, where the last of his customers were trotting out on unsteady legs.

The innkeeper searched his pockets twice. His key was gone.

Meanwhile, the robed man had gone out the other end of the passage, into a lavishly decorated palace; so lavishly decorated, in fact, that we can assume it was property of royalty. He turned to shut the door.

The robed man never came out of that basement.

Neither did his package.

All that could be observed on his body was a small piece of yellow cloth, clutched tightly between his stiffened fingers, which had clearly been torn from its natural position during a struggle.

The Order was being re-established in Damascus.


	2. 1513: Letters to Ezio Auditore

Mentore Auditore,

Iain and I have arrived at Damascus. This place is influenced by the Mamluk Templars, who are currently warring with the new Ottoman Empire. We assassins must establish ourselves quickly, for the tides of war could easily wash us away if we are not careful.

Iain is laying low; a Scot here will attract a lot of attention. I, however, have been scouting since we arrived.

We have used the money you gave us to buy a small building near the market. It is suitable for us, and we have already begun to hire workers to make it… a little more so. So far we plan to add an underground training area and meeting hall. We also require the shipment of certain items previously discussed, there are little ingredients to make it that are sold here... Or at least, none we can find out in the open.

We have also gotten to know a band of thieves, who have agreed to a "one hand washes the other" job, or whatever they call it. I'm not amazing at Italian, I suppose we'll get recruits for that. The thieves have also slipped us some gold for a start-up, with the assumption that we will pay back more in the end, either through money or less... subtle ways.

Luckily or unluckily, depending on your views, the violent atmosphere has given rise to rebellious citizens, which is good for Iain and in recruiting, at least. We already have two new recruits, a young butcher named Paolo and a former acrobat, Emiliana. We are in the process of training them now.

We have also established successful ties with a nearby blacksmith, name of Rasaza, who has agreed to supply us with armor, as long as we can pay for it. I like his style; bronze armor and leather straps, with nice engravings on it. He is also quite good at making daggers, I've gotten a fine wavy-bladed iron dagger from him that I intend to use to its fullest potential. I'll also send you some of his armor if I can get it. His wrist-blades are not quite perfect, but he is getting better at making them as we order more.

There is also an inn nearby, which can give us information, but I have suspicions that the innkeeper is working for the Mamluks. I've traced several templar packages to his inn, and I hope to find out how he is transporting them, if he is indeed doing so. I believe another is coming soon, so I will be vigilant.

We have tried to ask for council with the leader of the Ottomans, but we were informed of a wait period at least 2 months, so we may not be able to speak with him for a time. At any rate, it looks like the Ottomans are quickly gaining the upper hand, so it is important to at least establish ourselves on good terms with them.

I will send another letter to Constantinople as soon as I can; hopefully it will bring more good news.

Sincerely,

Yaroah Rhodun


	3. 1513: The Acrobat, Part One

A young girl stood in the backstage of the Circus, putting on an extravagant costume. She was petite, and had black hair and a pretty face, but she had a sense of strength to her at the same time. Her mother had often told her that she was the strongest and smallest woman she had ever seen. Which made her adept at her job; she was an acrobat.

"Emiliana!"

The girl turned at the sound of her name.

"Emiliana, the show's about to start! Get up there, child!" The old man hit her twice with his cane. Emiliana hastened to get on her hat. She hated her acrobat's hat. It was covered in odd feathers and made her feel ridiculous. She looked at herself in the mirror and lamented that fact that her costume was so… stupid, for lack of a better word. Her pause was paid off by another whack with the cane, and she hurried onto stage, to the applause of the crowd.

Slowly she climbed the large tower on the left side of the circus stage. Once on top, she grabbed the hanging bar and began. She swung this way and that, twirling and flipping to the crowd's delight. With ease, she caught onto the next bar and pivoted to make the jump. Her hand slipped while she was turning.

Emiliana fell down, down, down, 20 feet to the sandy floor of the circus. Everything went black.

"Emiliana!"

Emiliana heard her name calling as though through a thick wall… so faint, yet somehow close.

"Emiliana!"

It got louder.

"Emiliana!"

Emiliana awoke. Her friend, Candida, was sitting next her. They were both in an alleyway in some backwards part of Damascus.

Candida whispered, "Emiliana, I tried to find a Doctor, but all the shops are closed! And I think you broke a rib!"

Wonderful.

Emiliana struggled to sit up. Every breath was causing her a sharp pain in her side. Candida was struggling to say something.

"Oh, and… uhh… Emiliana… Razi fired you after you fell. But maybe he'll take you back now that you're ok?"

"No, he won't. I'm surprised it took him that long to fire me. And what about you? Shouldn't you be back on the stage?

"Well… after you fell, I took you off of the stage, and he fired me too for abandoning my post."

"You didn't have to do that," Emiliana said, her eyes widening, "It's bad enough me getting fired!"

"Yeah, well… I hated that job anyway. Can't we get a better job here in the city?"

"I suppose so… and we need to find a doctor, I think… I think….. Oh god."

Emiliana had just opened her shirt to inspect the damage. It was not a pretty sight. One rib stood out at an awkward angle. The tip had punctured her skin.

"Candida, can you… get a Doctor to come here? I don't think I'm moving like this."

Her friend took off out of the alleyway. Emiliana sat there, and waited. After what seemed like 10 minutes, just when her vision had gotten blurry (probably not a good sign) Candida returned with a cloaked man.

Candida knelt down next to Emiliana and said, "This guy isn't a doctor, but he says he has plenty of experience patching people up… He was the only guy I could find."

Emiliana tried to say something, but everything started going dark again.

Meanwhile, in the alleyway, the cloaked man had put her rib back in place and given her a brace and some painkillers. He then turned to Candida.

"This will not be enough. She needs bed rest. Take her home, and tend to her there."

Candida bit her lip.

"We don't have a home anymore."

"Indeed?"

The man seemed to be contemplating something.

"What are you, professionally? You look like you're from a circus."

"We _were_ acrobats, but we've just been fired. We've no place to go."

"My brother and I are… setting up something here. We have plenty of beds and we can offer you a job if you like."

"Sounds fine, where is it?"

"South of here, near the market. Don't touch your friend, I'll carry her… I think you may have made it worse by carrying her like that."

Candida's eyes widened.

"I did? How much worse?"

"Not much, just let me carry her this time…"

And so they set off to the small building near the marketplace.

_Next part coming soon, m8s._


End file.
